Gibbs was just pulling on his coat when he heard Jenny's soft, hesitant voice at the top of the stairs.
"Jethro?" she asked, "Are you going somewhere?"
He sighed. No easy way to say it. "I need a break Jen. Figured I'd head over and put in some time on my boat."
"Oh." He wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed that he was leaving. "Will you be at your house all day then?"
Nodding, he accepted the inevitable. "Likely."
She stood there for several moments in silence, not making eye contact with him. Gibbs wondered if she was struggling with herself for something. Finally she found the words.
"Can I come with you?" He knew it cost her to ask, but he wasn't sure if he could handle having her around right now. "I'll stay out of the way, I promise. I've got files to go over."
He hesitated, then nodded. "Okay. Are you ready?"
She nodded. "I think so. Is my briefcase down there?"
Gibbs scanned the hallway. "Yeah, it's here."
Jenny started down the stairs towards him and he was struck by how young and un-director like she looked. Her hair was down and tucked behind her ears. She was wearing a matching, pink and gray jogging suit and slip on shoes from her closet. He kept his eyes away from her face, didn't want to see her red rimmed eyes from crying or whatever wounded look was there now. Gibbs didn't move towards her or try to touch her in any way as she slipped her arms into her coat and pulled her hair out to hang down her back.
In silence they went out to the car. Jenny spent the drive staring out the windows at the neighbourhoods between her house and his, but she wasn't really seeing anything. Gibbs was wishing he had a bigger car, because his emotions were all at the surface and she was sitting too close. At his house he parked in the drive and got out, waiting for Jenny to go first before he unlocked the front door. She made a beeline for the living room, turning the lights on and getting comfortable on the couch. She wanted to prove that she was as good as her word to stay out of his way. Gibbs barely watched her for a second before striding towards the basement, wondering how the love that they'd enjoyed last night had turned into such a yawning gulf between them today.
Forcefully pushing the basement door shut, something he rarely did, Gibbs clattered down the stairs and flipped on his worklights. He dropped with a sigh onto the couch, sitting for a moment before he got to work. Images of Jenny's first night home flooded back. How he rushed home to her as soon as he had a full confession. How young she had looked sitting curled up on that couch. The fear in her eyes. The desperation he'd felt when she'd flung herself into his arms. And the moment he realized Jenny was not okay.
Running a hand down his face as if that would erase what he was seeing, Gibbs wondered if he should call Bill. Or Ducky even, who would be more than willing to listen to him talk. If he even knew what he wanted to talk about. But he didn't, not really. Everything was all jumbled up inside - his thoughts, his feelings, his memories, his fears - and he didn't know any other way to untangle everything than to do what he always did. Work with his hands.
There were boards to be cut and planed, holes to be bored, dowel pins to pound in, ends to be filed smooth, and always, always, more sanding to do. It was the only way he was going to stay sane. Focus on the wood, focus on the boat, and try with all his might to forget that his wife was sitting upstairs alone, probably regretting what they'd done that morning as much as he did.
NCIS
It was Saturday afternoon and Ziva was sharpening her knives. Holding one up so that it glinted in the sunlight coming through her window, she pulled her arm back and flicked it into the block of wood she had set up on the other side of the room. When it hit the bull's-eye, she smiled. Some things never got old. When someone knocked on the door, Ziva frowned and stood up, reaching for knife she still wore at her waist.
The knock came again, harder. "Come on Ziva!" she heard her partner's voice through the door. "Let me in!"
Ziva rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to ignore him. Knowing Tony, he would just find a way to get more annoying. Checking the peephole by force of habit, she finally opened her apartment door, leaned against the door frame and glared at him.
"What do you want Tony?"
"Whoa!" he stepped back. "Look who's in a bad mood on this glorious weekend day. What's wrong Ziva? Wake up on the wrong side of your bed of nails?"
She frowned. "Why would anyone sleep on a bed of nails?"
Sighing, Tony shook his head. "Never mind." He looked past her. "Are you going to invite me in?"
Ziva crossed her arms. "That depends. What are you doing here?"
Tony smiled and held a DVD out in front of him. "I'm here to add some good, old-fashioned American culture to your life Ziva. The Great Escape." He looked back at the cover, lost in his admiration of the film. "Classic movie. A time worn tail of imprisonment and escape. 1963. Starring Steve McQueen, James Garner, Richard Attenborough, and David McCallum. Nominated for an Oscar and won for Best Actor at the Moscow International Film Festival. Good times." He looked into her impassive face. "Come on Ziva, you're going to love it."
Without waiting for her okay, he pushed past her into the apartment, coming to a halt when he caught sight of her knife collection. "Uh...Ziva?"
She shut the door and walked over to him. "Yes Tony?"
He tugged at the collar of his shirt. "Any way you can put these...fine looking weapons somewhere else so I don't feel in danger of dying while we watch this movie?"
Ziva sat down and picked up one of the knives, twirling it between her fingers. "Do I make you nervous Tony?"
"Only when there are sharp objects lying around."
With a roll of her eyes Ziva scooped up the knives, re-depositing them on the kitchen counter with the black, roll out case she used to store them. "Better?"
His trademark grin was back in place. "Much." Tony handed her the DVD. "Get ready to have the experience of a lifetime, partner."
Walking over to her TV stand, Ziva inserted the movie. "As long as we're only talking about the film Tony."
His eyebrows raised. "What else might we be talking about Ziva?"
She stared at him, knowing that the likelihood of there being an ulterior motive somewhere in his showing up was very high. Finally she gave up. "Nothing Tony. Just the film."
Tony's eyes followed Ziva as she took a seat on the other side of her sofa. He stretched out and got comfortable, still trying to remember what on earth possessed him to show up at her door with a movie. His only possible excuse was the news about Probie and Abby. But that could wait until later.
NCIS
"Timmy, at least tell me where we're going!" Abby begged, following her boyfriend as he dragged her by the hand to some mysterious location for a surprise.
He sighed. "If I told you it wouldn't be a surprise anymore."
"I don't like surprises McGee."
Tim looked back at her, disbelief on his features. "You love surprises Abby."
"Well, I like them better when I know what they're going to be first," she insisted.
"That doesn't make any sense."
"Not making sense is my second job," his girlfriend retorted.
"Especially when you're explaining chemicals or computers to Gibbs, right?"
She giggled. "It is kind of funny to see that lost puppy look on his face. If it weren't for Gibbs and Tony, I would probably speak fluent geek all the time and forget that no one understand what's I'm talking about."
"I understand Abby."
"Anyone else but you Tim."
Finally they emerged from the wooded path into a park area. Abby cocked her head to the side. "You brought me to the playground McGee? What for?"
"Didn't you tell me one time that your favourite thing to do when you were little was go on the swings?"
"McGee, I was like...five," Abby pointed out.
"I know. But still, you had this look on your face like it was such a good memory. So I wanted to recreate that memory for you, but I wanted this one to be with me."
"Aww, Timmy, that's so sweet, but..." she hesitated, "don't you think we're a little old to be going on the swings? Those little kids might start looking at us funny."
"Abby, the last thing you are afraid of is a few funny looks. You get them all the time. And I'm here today to tell you that there is no such thing as an age limit on swings."
"Okay," Abby agreed reluctantly, "if you're sure you want to make a fool out of yourself, I'm game."
"All guys make fools of themselves for the girls they love, it's practically a rule," Tim responded without blinking.
There it was again, the 'L' word. But he said it like he just loved to let her know, not in a way that made her feel guilty for not saying it back. They settled on the swings together and took a minute to get comfortable. Tim looked at her and grinned.
"I'll race you to see who gets highest first," he challenged.
For a moment Abby considered just blurting it out right there, 'I love you'. It would be so them, to do it like that when he wasn't expecting a thing. But for some reason she decided to keep it to herself a little longer. Instead she took up his challenge.
"You're on ElfLord."
"Abby..." he groaned. She knew how much he hated the nickname Tony had given him and Gibbs for some reason had picked up on.
"Sorry. Tim."
"Better. On your mark...get set...go!"
They both started pumping their legs and began gliding through the air. After a minute Abby started laughing and began to feel again the wondrous joy of being a child again. She looked over at McGee. And she was almost absolutely sure that she loved this man who was thoughtful enough to recreate a memory with her. Now she just needed to find the right 'Abby' way to let him know it. Planning that moment was going to be fun.
NCIS
NCIS Director Jenny Shepard sat curled up on her husband's couch, glasses on, reading through her fourth report of the afternoon. It was quiet in Gibbs' house, as if it knew he didn't like to be disturbed unless it was absolutely necessary. Sighing, she looked out the window for the umpteenth time, still finding new ways to chew herself out for her actions that morning and her thought process last night that made it sound like the right thing to do.
She missed her husband. She missed the way he'd been so attentive the last couple weeks, barely letting her out of his sight. At times his attention had felt smothering, but now she felt bereft without it. He was here, one floor away from her, and yet she couldn't remember that last time she'd felt this distant from him. Part of her wanted to go downstairs, pick up a sanding block, and stay there working on his boat until he finally said something to her. The other part was afraid Gibbs was going to tell her that this was not worth the effort and he wanted out of the deal.
If anyone asked, Jenny guessed that was her deepest fear. Being the one that initially broke off their relationship when she knew he wanted more, she always felt the need to compensate for it now. Even though Jethro had several times said he forgave her, that he didn't hold the past against her, that he would marry her ten times over, she still sometimes thought he'd gotten the raw end of the deal. What if one day he realized she just wasn't worth the effort anymore?
While these thoughts and many more were running through her head, Jenny's cell phone rang. Prepared to answer it with her typical, "Shepard," she glanced at the caller ID first. That was strange. Her phone said Jethro was calling her. Gibbs didn't use his cell phone unless his hand was forced, he hated the small device that so often intruded on his solitude. She let it ring two more times, unsure of what she would say. Finally she flipped the phone open and slowly brought it to her ear.
"Hello?" she went with something safe.
There was silence for a moment, then she heard a sigh, followed by her husband's voice. "Hi Jen."
"Jethro." Jenny wasn't sure what to say. After all, he'd called her.
"This isn't as easy as I hoped."
Her throat constricted and she shifted positions on the couch. Surely he wouldn't tell her over the phone that he wanted out, would he? Jenny knew she probably deserved it after everything she'd put him through, but she prayed that was not why he called.
"What isn't?"
"Talking." He hesitated. "This morning was..."
"Bad. I know," Jenny let out a breath. "I'm sorry."
"Me too."
"What are you sorry for? It was my stupid idea."
"And I could've stopped it," her husband reminded her. "It takes two you know."
Jenny nodded before realizing he couldn't see her. "I know," she said softly.
He grunted like he was lifting something heavy before she heard his voice again. "Can you tell me what all that was about Jenny?"
She hung her head, annoyed to feel tears in her eyes. "No. It was stupid. It was something Kristyn said, but I didn't listen to the advice she gave, I just took part of what I heard and ran with it. And then the memories...I mean, I never thought...and I know you're different but..."
Suddenly she was crying and she set the phone down, grabbing one of the sofa pillows to cry into. Gibbs could hear her sobs and listened only a few seconds before hanging up. Well that had been a great idea, hadn't it? He tossed the phone across his workbench. This was not working. Digging in a box behind him, Gibbs came up with an old rubber mallet. It would make only a dull thudding noise that no one else was likely to hear. Gritting his teeth, Gibbs aimed the tool as the concrete wall of his basement and began to beat it, trying to stop feeling worse, trying to stop feeling anything at all.